


Advice

by Niullum



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Emotional Constipation, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt Tim Drake, Introspection, Leslie Thompkins Comes To Save The Day, More like whacks Bruce with proper advice™, Unconsciousness, injured Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niullum/pseuds/Niullum
Summary: Bruce ponders his relationship with Tim and gets advice from an old friend.
Relationships: Leslie Thompkins & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 126





	Advice

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Mizuphae for helping me!!!

Even to this day, Tim is an enigma Bruce can’t quite comprehend. From the first time Bruce met him, there was something unique about him. A little boy who one day decided to get involved in this lifestyle and never looked back.

_(It makes Bruce wonder from time to time what could have happened if he hadn’t caved in. If he’d spared no glance at his pleading to wear the costume and join this crusade. If only he’d been **stronger** in his convictions and let Tim enjoy his childhood and be a normal kid instead._

_He sometimes fears the answers his mind comes up with whenever those questions assault him. Cripples him to his core how much different Tim’s life could have been.)_

Now if Bruce had to describe Tim with a word it would probably be a puzzle. A puzzle that shifts in four different layers before Bruce can even try to solve it. He blames himself to some extent considering how much he struggled in connecting with Tim at first. During that time Bruce was still grieving over the loss of his son and having the possibility of making the same mistakes to _another_ kid that looked just _like_ Jason came too much to bear.

_Why get involved?_

_Why open up his heart to the neighbor’s son and potentially get hurt?_

It’s why his relationship with Tim is so different from Dick’s or Damian’s. They don't have the typical father-son relationship. Their history, while full of good memories and fun anecdotes and adventures, is marked by the distance Bruce initially set in their beginnings since for the longest time he—and oh how it fills him with guilt ever thinking that — always gave the excuse that Tim wasn’t _his_.

Tim already had a home and he was well-taken care of. He had _parents_. Absent, sure, but they were alive. It was only after he tried to fill the hole Jack left after he died that Bruce realized his mistake but at that point, Tim had already grown up and so was the distance in between them.

It frustrates him to a certain degree because out of all his children, Tim is by far the most unpredictable or as Jason likes to call it, the ‘mysterious one’. It’s not that far from the truth. They never know what Tim might come up with or what he is thinking.

Which is why looking at Tim's pale face resting in a hospital bed, filled with tubes and needles and surrounded by two pair machines who are currently keeping him alive, makes it so upsetting. Bruce received a call at three in the morning, informing them that Tim was in the critical urgent unit.

There are questions, so many of them going through his mind as he watches his son’s chest rise and fall with each breath he doesn’t know where to start. They don't know what caused the injuries, who inflicted them, if this was premeditated or accidental.

_Was it a mission? Was someone after him? Why didn’t he tell them? Did he not trust them?_

“Those furrows are going to be permanent if you keep frowning like that,” a voice nearby says, disrupting Bruce out of his miserable thoughts. He turns his head to the entry, his joints cracking with every movement of his stiff and aged body.

Standing by the door is none other than a person Bruce knows rather well.

“Leslie,” Bruce says, nodding his head in greetings at her. “It’s been a while.”

“Hate how we meet during these circumstances,” Leslie replies by closing the door behind her. She walks towards him, her black shoes clicking loudly against the sterile white tiles. Bruce watches as she takes the stethoscope from around her and hides it in one of her coat’s pockets.

“Thought I would visit while I have a small break. How are the rest?”

 _“_ Worried,” is the response. Short and clipped, just like Bruce Leslie watched grow. She raises an eyebrow, showing her ever pronounced wrinkles, and takes a seat right next to him.

“No suspects?”

Bruce closes his eyes.

“No.”

_Not yet._

“I suppose the others are tearing down the city looking for clues,” she says, averting her eyes to Tim. Her eyes soften and she sighs. “What a way to start Monday, don’t you think?”

Bruce huffs.

“The media’s gonna have a blast when they get a wind of it.”

“I’ll make sure to decline comments when Vicki Vales comes to question me,” Leslie replies, earning a chuckle from Bruce. “You’ve got to admit the woman is stubborn.”

“Like all reporters are,” he says, closing his eyes. The silence settles between them, both too engrossed in their minds until Leslie speaks, “he’ll get better-”

“You don’t know that yet,” Bruce interrupts, opening his eyes up. He hates how pessimist he sounds but Bruce has lived long enough to know it in this work of line, not everything is always rays of sunshine and rainbows.

“Tim’s a strong boy,” Leslie replies with a gesture of her hands. “He'll be back on his feet in no time. Will probably wallow during the next couple of months for being benched as he recovers but he will be fine.”

Bruce doesn’t comment on it and instead, focuses his attention on the balloon and flowers decorating the room. He can see from there Dick’s _‘we miss you’_ note on the bed stand or the small drawing Damian left in his last visit _._

The lump reappears as the image only cements how badly Tim’s condition is. They had had similar encounters but… never to this extent. He clenches his fist, wishing he could know _what was happening inside Tim’s mind_.

“I failed him, just like I failed Jason.”

Leslie’s sympathetic glance or words doesn’t help at all, “Bruce...”

“After… _Jason,”_ his voice wavered as Bruce maintained his composure. He barely got his words across, _“_ I swore I couldn’t let myself get hurt again. So I maintained my distance from Tim for years when he needed me the most and when I realized it was already too late.-”

Leslie’s hands grab one of his arms and squeezes, “you were grieving over the loss of your son.”

“He doesn’t trust me and I can’t fix-”

“Bruce,” Leslie cuts him off and holds her finger when Bruce opens his mouth. “You don’t have to ‘fix Tim’ or psychanalyse or whatever nonsense you’re thinking in order to get closer to him. The answer is far more simple; talk to your son.”

_“I have-”_

She raises an eyebrow.

“Did you, with actual words coming from your? Or did you just brood in your study?” She ignores the dying noise that comes out of Bruce’s mouth, rolls her eyes, and mumbles, ”You _bats_ , I swear one of these days.”

She takes a deep breath. “I know you care deeply about Tim but unlike other metahuman you can’t read minds. In order to know what’s happening to your son you need to build trust and communication is key. Ask him how he is _doing_ , if he _needs_ help. I’m sure Tim won’t hesitate to tell you about his life if he gets the chance.”

Bruce briefly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Are you exchanging notes with my therapist now?”

Leslie lets out a laugh and settles back on the chair, before shaking her head. “I haven’t,” she says, averting her eyes to the teenager -close to adult now- resting on the bed. “I watched you grow up. You two are far too similar. Smart kid, isn’t he?”

‘Still, remember the time you first introduced him to me. Tiny little kid,” she lowers her hand to make a point. Her eyes slowly unfocus as the memory replays in her mind. ”Sweet thing, asking me all those questions. He didn’t cry when I had to put stitches on him.”

“He liked the candy you snuck to him after,” Bruce commented, his voice going soft with emotions. Much to Alfred’s discontent, Tim hadn’t stopped babbling afterward. “Alfred wasn’t happy that day.”

“I’m sure Alfred was quick to forgive me,” Leslies says, nudging his shoulder. “After all, I’m the one who fixes you up.”

“Touché,” Bruce pauses. He takes a glance at the room, very different from the last time he went here, and asks, “I see you changed the windows.”

Leslie snorts.

“If you _bats_ stopped breaking my window I wouldn’t have to replace them every two weeks,” his mouth quirks up at her mild exasperation. “Seriously, it seems like your _kind_ can’t grasp the concept of a door.”

“Will make sure to pass the message,” he says and leans more in the chair. A sound disrupts them. Leslie takes out a small device from her pocket that, judging by the small rant of curses left her mouth, it couldn’t be good.

“Sorry, I have to cut the visit short. There’s a full code in room 466, ” Leslie says as she stands up, tidies up her white coat, and flashes him an apologetic smile. “Tell Alfred I said hi.”

He turns his head and there is Leslie, with her ID card swinging from side to side as she walks out of the room. She stops midway opening up the door and giving Bruce a glimpse of the nurses waiting for her in the hallway. “Oh, and Bruce?”

“Yes?”

Her eyes soften.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she whispers, ”I’m one call away.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Bruce mouths long after she left. His shoulder slumps forward and he exhales, letting all the tension he’d been accumulating during the day go away.

He sits closer to Tim, the chair scraping as he slides through the floor, Leslie’s words still ringing in the back of his mind. Tim looks… so _peaceful_. Another pang of guilt goes through him at the reminder. He doesn’t remember when was the last time Tim looked so relaxed. Bruce brings one of his hands, wary of the many wires close to his son’s body, and holds his son's hand.

He squeezes it.

“I promise I’ll do better next time,” he whispers, his mind is already making up plans. “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my [tumblr here!](https://niullum.tumblr.com/). Thanks you for reading this! I'd love to know what you think! Have a nice day! ❤️


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